Black Feathers
by Rinku-Chan 333
Summary: He in on a quest for redemption. She is a mystery that both distracts him from and helps him towards his goal. When she becomes more than just a means to an end, he isn't sure what to feel. Rated T for violence, language, and slight suggestive themes. DISCLAIMER: I don't own Assassin's Creed. It's property of Ubisoft and blah blah blah... Cover made on WSC
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

_My work lies before me. Two civilians, ten guards, everybody else pretending that they see nothing. _

_One knife finds a new sheath; one guard sports a broken neck. Two down, eight to go. Keep the civilians alive._

…

Altair slipped out of the small cluster of scholars when he was sure that the guards were out of sight. Infiltrating cities during war-time was just too easy.

He was still angry, and he had every right to be. This test was a waste of time. He has always worked best alone before, and it is not as though he is truly a newly-ranked ranked assassin. Now he would have to put up with the jeering taunts of the Rafiq and other assassins, alike. These men he was sent to kill hardly seemed worth his time (except de Sable; he'd be getting a new hole to breathe through, soon enough). It is not like he has other options, though.

After all, what the Master says is law.

Altair sighed and made his way up to the roof of a nearby building, once he was sure that nobody was looking. The faster he made it to the bureau, the faster he could end this nonsense.

The guards didn't breach the rooftops here, making Altair's job easier. He sprinted above the vast city-scape, only to be interrupted by the occasional jump. He was almost at the bureau, and then…

"_Infidel, you are filth!"_

Altair stopped almost instantly, drawing his sword, looking for the source of the voice. Nobody could have known that he was up here…and the guards weren't smart enough to look up. So, then who…

_Talk again…where are you, rat?_ He silently dared.

"_You think you can beat me?"_

The voices were coming from the streets below…and it did not sound any closer than the first time. This meant that something was happening, and that it did not involve him.

Altair slowly made his way to the edge of the building he was standing on. As he got closer, he could hear the ring of steel on steel. There were eight guards and two corpses, as well as two civilians trying to hide in a corner. Fighting off the guards was a hooded figure. He seemed to know what he was doing. Then why did Altair feel inclined to help this stranger?

_Worry about your target. The sooner you can end this, the sooner you can regain your standing, _one side of him said.

_Why not help this man? Perhaps you will be able to wrestle a favor out of him, _another side said.

After a few moments of wrestling with himself, Altair took a deep breath, having a deep feeling of regret already as he dove onto one of the remaining guards.

With two people, the guards quickly fell. The cloaked stranger was surprisingly quiet. He simply nodded at the civilians' praise, all but ignoring Altair. When the civilians moved on, the stranger simply started walking in the opposite direction. Under normal circumstances, Altair would simply continue on to his destination, but for some reason, it irked him that the stranger moved on without so much as a thank you.

"Wait a moment, I'd speak with you!" Altair called.

The stranger simply started running at his words. "So," he muttered, "if it is a chase you want, then it is a chase you will get." He started running after his quarry.

The cloaked man took a sharp left turn, followed by scurrying up the nearest rooftop he could find. Altair followed him every step of the way. _You're not getting away, not yet,_ Altair thought.

They sprinted across the rooftops, only to be interrupted by the occasional gap that both of them could easily jump. _This man's stamina is nearly as good as any assassins', _Altair noticed. He instinctively knew that he wasn't going to tire out his prey anytime soon.

The cloaked man started climbing a tall spire. _He's cornering himself. Good, _Altair smiled to himself.

When they both finally reached the top, the other man seemed to have realized his mistake…a little too late. Altair stopped a few feet shy of the other man, drawing his sword to prove his point. "Who are you? I demand to know!" Altair pressed, pressing his blade enough into his prey's chest to make his intentions clear. He wasn't expecting to slight give under the cloak that came of it, but he didn't question it.

Instead of answering, the stranger simply said, with a slight accent, "Safety and peace, Altair Ibn La'Ahad!" After that, the stranger back flipped off of the spire…probably into the haystack below.

That voice was much too high to be that of a man…

And the slight give of the stranger's flesh under his blade was not what he thought it was, was it?

The chase was over…but he had a feeling that he would see this strange warrior woman again.

…

The woman made sure that her pursuer wasn't following her before she headed back to her base. There would be a time and a place for a meeting, and now was not it.

After three years…she had all but given up hope…

Now, he has literally dropped into her life. How fortunate for her. It was about time…she needed help, and she wasn't willing to ask the others.

She turned down an alleyway and knocked on the second door on the left.

The door opened a crack, and a voice came from beyond. "What is the first step to freedom?" it whispered.

"Peace," she replied. The door opened wider, allowing her admission.

"Any news, Raven?" the man guarding the door asked.

"I've tracked her down…and found help…even if he doesn't realize it yet," she replied.

"Why not let one of us help you? This is the work that you train us for," he insisted.

"Absolutely not. She got taken due to my negligence. I won't risk any of your lives for my mistake," she said coolly.

"So you rely on mercenaries? You are willing to risk another's life outside of—

She smacked him. Hard. The sound echoed in the near silent hideout. "I know that you miss her. I know that you're worried. I know that you want to help. But if I bring in a big party, which I would need to pull this plan off with any of you, they'll kill all of the civilians they have. This isn't meant to be vengeance. This entire operation is about keeping innocents safe in the place of careless or abusive guards. The man I've found should be able to handle it. Now get ahold of yourself," she concluded.

"As you wish," he muttered, holding his red cheek.

She pushed past him, heading to the hideout's shared bunk rooms. She stripped out of her clothing and washed out the blood, changing into something simpler. Once her sword was sharpened to a fine point, she headed to bed.

Tomorrow would be the time for action.

…

**A/n: Here we go, spiraling into the madness that is the Assassin's Creed fandom. Damn you, MoS…**

**Anyways, so I see all kinds of stories revolving around Altair that focus on the same point; either "Ooh, look, female assassin!" or "We were sucked into Assassin's Creed/we were sent to the past" fics. It's alright to have a basis; that happens in every fandom. But few of them manage pull off originality. So…I'm kind of sort of taking both of those and putting my own spin on it (but it's VERY lose). This will probably be a very long series…**

**So, thanks to Sassy Witty, my bestie and sort-of beta reader who caught several mistakes in this (because I doubt anyone wants to read about 'shark left turns' :P) Read her stuff. On here and FictionPress. She's awesome.**

**So, I will end this off here. Drop a comment, I love to hear what people have to say. Hopefully I'll update soon (no promises; everyone knows that I'm a terrible procrastinator, in a true da Vinci style :P)**

**Fun Fact: Altair, due to his time-frame of existence, anticipates all warriors of any kind to be men. Women did not fight back then, as women's rights are kind of a new concept. This is proven as fact when Altair first encounters Maria.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_My work lies before me. One man dead in a pool of blood and water. Several guards, all unaware. My target, frustrated but as wary as his guards. Everybody else scurrying back to work._

_My blade is thirsty this morning._

…

Altair dashed across the courtyard, Tamir's personal guard tailing him every step of the way. These men seemed slow, and it was easy to lose them.

Altair kept up his pace, using his momentum to quickly scale a nearby wall as the bell of the guard tower gave its own account of his handiwork. The sun was high in the sky, meaning that he may be able to get some time in the Kingdom before the moon rose.

Once he was sure that there was nobody following him, Altair slowed his pace somewhat, conserving his energy. The things that his target had said…disquieted him. He sensed that there was something that Al Mualim was not telling him.

As he approached the bureau, he saw the silhouette of another waiting at the entrance.

He went to circle the stranger, intending to ambush him. _Them_, he thought to himself. After the run-in with that woman yesterday, he was not about to assume the gender of this person. However, it was obvious that they were not of the Brotherhood. It was also obvious that they _knew, _as they knew that the bureau existed_. _Altair intended to learn the extent of their knowledge.

As he lined up himself to pounce, the stranger turned around. Upon further inspection, it was the same woman he chased yesterday. This time, though, she was not running. If he was not mistaken, she actually came here seeking him out.

"I was wondering when you would show up," she said. He stiffened. What was she up to? He made sure that his sword was clear of its bindings.

"I'm not looking for a fight, Altair. I only wish to talk. Put the sword away," she ordered.

"That is strange, considering that you ran when I asked the same of you. What game are you playing?" he demanding, ignoring her last comment.

"As I'm sure you know, the work you and I do is hardly a game. I simply didn't need to talk to you yesterday," she answered. Her eyes were hard to see beyond the shadow of her hood. He could not tell what she was thinking.

"Then who are you? What do you want?" he pressed. She may not admit it, but Altair could feel that she was toying with him. He was not in the mood.

"Of course. Where are my manners?" she said, moving into a deep bow. "Raven Anerali, bad-ass vigilante of the Holy Lands, and, between you and me, one of the best fighters this side of the Atlantic."

"How do you know my name?" Altair asked, not quite satisfied enough to lay down his weapon.

"Let's just say that I have my ways. If you're trying to figure out if I'll betray your order, I can assure you that that's not my intention," she explained.

_How did she…?_

He called on his sense, letting the colors of the world drain to a greyscale as he observed this woman, this…Raven. A deep blue corona surrounded her as she regarded him coolly. All at once, Altair's surroundings snapped back to their natural colors. He put away his sword.

"Maybe I believe you," he began slowly, "but I still feel as though you are hiding something. And you still have not answered all of my questions."

She sighed, running a hand over her face. "Look, I'll play Twenty Questions with you later. Right now, though, I'm looking for your help," Raven admitted.

"What is Twenty—never mind. What makes you think that I will help you?" he ventured.

"Well, you helped me down in that alley, though I could have handled myself. Why stop now?" she explained.

"Your life was possibly at stake back there. What is so dangerous now that you certainly need my help with?" he asked.

"A raid on a criminal hideout. These bastards are some of the worst rapists and murderers. I've been looking to wipe them out for a while now, and the opportunity has presented itself. However, I can't wipe them out on my own; that's where you come in," she said.

"How does this benefit me?" he asked.

"Well, you look good for slaughtering a whole lot of guys that you might or might not have been sent to kill eventually anyways, and save about ten civilians in the process. If that's not enough for you, you can also take all of the stuff in the organization's hideout. Also, should you have need of me in the future, I would be glad to render assistance. Is that enough gain for you?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Once again, he was stuck between two sides; this woman was potentially an ally, if his sixth sense was anything to rely on. She was competent in battle and could make escapes easier. However, Al Mualim would get suspicious if he did not return as soon as he reported success to the Rafiq.

"That…is acceptable. Where would we meet and when?" he asked. He once again felt as though this was a decision he would come to regret, but for now, he ignored that.

"Meet in front of the Souk tomorrow at sundown. I'll be waiting for you there," she explained. At that, she dropped to the ground, disappearing into the crowd. Altair followed her with his eyes until she disappeared down another street.

Why did he agree? So a few civilians died, why did he have to concern himself in this? More troubling still, what was it about this woman that fascinated him so much?

It seemed like he would always have more questions than answers, for every answer generated a new question.

…

Raven sighed in relief. She honestly wasn't sure whether or not Altair would accept. It would save her a world of trouble to have him there as well. But just how long could she skirt around the truth?

_Cross that bridge when you get there, Anerali, _she chided herself.

…

**A/n: Dun dun DUN! Just kidding l.o**

**I'm not real sure how I feel about this chapter…only that I'm surprised by how long it took me to write it (which is to say, not at all). I hope I'm keeping everyone (Altair) in character .**

**I'll try to update daily or bi-daily if all of the chapters are as fast to write as this one.**

**Thanks again to Sassy Witty for her willingness to double-check my work!**

**Fun Fact: The game 'Twenty Questions' is not as old as the Third Crusade, for which the game is set.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_My work lies before me. Two thieves, one girl, dark alleyway. _

_One knife finds a new sheath, one thief finds a new hole to breathe through. I grab the parchment and go._

_Time to launch the rescue._

…

Altair's keen eyes searched the souk for a blaze of gold. She should have arrive by now…so then, where was she?

Perhaps this was some elaborate scheme, maybe even a trap. Though, if it were a trap, then why meet someplace so public? An ambush in the shadows would be much more effective. Besides, his sight had already proven her an ally. Though allegiances aren't hard to change…

Suddenly, he felt a slight shift in the air, and the small hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Turning around, he was greeted with the blood-stained sight of the woman he had been waiting on.

"You look like you've been here for a while. Are you one of those people who live by 'if you're not early, you're late'?" she asked. The assassin's darted to the skyline; the sun was just beginning its descent onto the horizon. Perhaps he was the early one, after all.

"No…but thanks to you and your 'favor', I have had little better to do than to haunt the souk," he said dryly. She snorted.

"You're an assassin. Don't you have to go around, you know…assassinating people? I was pretty sure that was part of your job description," Raven commented sarcastically.

"My target is already dead. I was supposed to be on the road back to my master to report my success," Altair stated.

"Well, if you feel like you have to report every tiny notch of progress, then be my guest and leave for your fortress. But if it truly bothered you so much, I think that you wouldn't be standing here, right now," she pointed out.

"…You are a very strange woman, it would seem," the assassin said.

"So finding me on the streets killing guards didn't make me strange, but hitting you with logic did?" she asked.

Altair growled. "Enough. We have a job to do, do we not? It seems like a waste of time to stand here and trade barbs," he scolded. The woman did not seem perturbed, though, simply more amused.

"Alright, fine, Mr. High and Mighty, if you're so eager to leave my presence. They meet a few blocks from here, and I obtained our invite in on the way here," she explained.

"That would explain why you are covered in blood," Altair noted.

"Well, they weren't just going to give it to me, now were they? Now, you'll have to do the talking; they'll know that something's off if they hear a woman's voice," Raven explained.

"Wouldn't they know that something is off by seeing an armed and armored woman at all?" he pointed out.

"Please, you Syrian guys all think that women can't fight; you more or less proved that when we first met. As long I use the cloak to conceal some of the more obvious giveaways, we should be fine," she said.

Her earlier statement rang true; the less he had to deal with this annoying woman, the better. The chances were high that he would never see her again after this, and that made him eager to begin.

"When do we start, then? Or do you have one last scathing remark to add?" the assassin asked.

"Well, if that's your last question, then we start now," Raven replied.

…

Raven led her temporary companion to their destination. Altair was able to get them in without incident. The assassin hadn't said a single word on the way here, much to the vigilante's disappointment. He made it too easy to irritate him, and she hadn't had someone to do that to in over three years. It was a refreshing change of pace.

She didn't press him into speaking however; he seemed to naturally be a man of silence. Chances were high that any attempt at small talk would go nowhere.

Once they stepped through the compound, Altair finally broke their long silence.

"What do we do now? Why sneak in like this?" he asked.

"If they suspect something, they'll kill their prisoners outright. I'm not here to cause a bloodbath for the hell of it, you know. I'm here to save lives," she answered, all business now.

"Then how do you intend to rescue these prisoners without our targets noticing?" Altair asked.

"Simple; I sneak up on the guys guarding the door and kill anyone dumb enough to get within throwing knife distance, and you clear out the rest," she explained.

"This is your operation. Why should I have to put myself at greater risk and fight off the bulk of them?" the assassin pointed out.

"Oh, you don't know this organization very well. They're arrogant bastards who'll think they can take me. Chances are, our kills will be half-and-half, if not more coming after me. I have a…long history with these guys," she countered.

"Very well. I will follow you from above until you start the mayhem," Altair conceded. Something in his tone told Raven that he wasn't happy about it.

_Suck it up, killer boy_, she thought, _this is, as you said, _my _operation. We do this my way._

Raven's eyes browsed the room; it appeared to be a warehouse. She spotted two men at the far left of the room, one half asleep and the other leering at the women he was guarding. _Sick pervert. I won't regret this one bit._

Sticking to the shadows, Raven snuck up on the pair. When she was close enough to get a clear shot, she drew two throwing knives, aiming for their throats. _I hope you're ready, Altair._

With a flick of her wrist, the men were down almost instantly, their deaths barely making a sound. Good. Raven leapt over to the area, covering the entryway of the room where the civilians were being held. She grabbed the sword of one of the fallen guards and threw it towards where the bulk of their adversaries-about twenty-five to thirty—stood, making sure that it landed with a loud _clang._ The group instantly looked for the source of the sound, and spotted her soon after. They drew their swords, but they weren't charging her yet.

"What's the matter, boys?" she called, her mid-pitched voice echoing around the spacious hideout, "You going to attack, or did you sell your balls along with your dignity and humanity?"

This pissed them off, though some of them started falling, mainly in the back of the mob. It would appear that Altair had started early. Raven smirked.

Those who weren't dying from a gaping hole in their chest charged the vigilante, brandishing their weapons.

Too bad they were too slow to hit her.

She had them at a chokepoint, meaning that they had to fight her one or two at a time. She jumped and ducked and weaved to avoid their weapons, providing her own counter-attack in the process.

She saw some of the mob diverted to face Altair, though she was still left with the bulk of their forces. They were even more stupid than she initially thought.

The battle continued until indeed all of them were dead, including the guards posted outside. As soon as the last fell, Raven sheathed her curved sword, turning towards the women that would have been these men's' entertainment for the night.

…

Altair searched the room, checking for extra men that they may have missed. When he found none, he sheathed his sword. In front of him, he could see his temporary ally comforting the captured civilians. They seemed almost as terrified of her as they were of their captors. They all fled as soon as they could muster the courage to squeeze past her. She watched as they ran for the entrance in dismay, all of them holding some form of a rag or another up to their nose to lessen the smell of death in the room.

Once they were all gone, Raven ducked into the room. What would there be for her there? Was she perhaps looking for something?

Overcome by curiosity, Altair quietly approached the near-empty room. The vigilante was knelt over the corpse of a girl, no older than her mid to late teens.

"…never did learn when shut it, did you, Amna?" she muttered to the dead body. This seemed to be someone that Raven knew. Perhaps this is why she went through all of the extra effort, even if it was wasted. _Or it could coincide with the fact that she is a vigilante_, pointed out a voice in the back of his head, in her voice. It fit that the annoying voice would be hers. She was pain in his ass, even though he had known her for little more than two days.

"Rest in the hands of whatever god waits above, warrior, and take comfort in knowing that your suffering is at an end," Raven continued softly, sounding almost…benvolent.

"You do not believe?" Altair asked. The woman jumped when he spoke.

"Christ, you should really announce that you're behind someone before you start talking. You know, clear your throat or something?" she chastised.

"The way of my order is stealth, lest you forget. Why would I announce my presence to anyone?" The assassin asked.

"Because I'm not your target. And to answer your initial question, no, I don't believe. Do you?" she asked, flipping the question on him.

The assassin was caught in another mental struggle with her question; he was not sure that trusted her enough to divulge information about the Brotherhood…but just how much did she know about his order, anyways? On the other hand, there are many of his questions that she has yet to answer.

"Perhaps I will tell you when you answer some of my own questions," he replied simply.

"Fine, suit yourself. I'll answer them one day; today is just not that day," she answered mysteriously.

This woman was unbelievable.

"Then this is where we part for now," he replied. _Hopefully forever, _he added in his mind.

"For now. Until we meet again, Assassin. It's been a pleasure to work with you," she stated, walking away as she talked.

Altair watched her leave, waiting until she disappeared again before he departed himself.

…

**A/n: Annnnnnnd…as soon as set a schedule for myself, Writer's Block kicks in. It may or may not coincide with the fact that I haven't even hit the 200 mark for views, and only one review (though one IS better than none). Not trying to guilt-trip or anything, I just don't feel quite so guilty about having Writer's Block when nobody reads…**

**Anyways, so, as you can imagine, this is hardly the last time our protagonists meet, much to Altair's future dismay. There would be no point, otherwise. My main characters are all sarcastic…maybe because sarcasm is more fun to write :P. I figured that Altair would start off as a not-so-big fan of our lovable Raven, for…ehm…obvious reasons. **

**Longest chapter yet! And more Raven in this one, beucase, you know, she hasn't gotten more than 100-200 words worth of TPL per chapter in this story.**

**Sadly, I haven't really been able to get a hold of Witty recently…must be off doing something else…or visiting out-of-country family…and I was eager to get this online.**

**So…thank you to MrsAuditore for the ONE review, it's nice to know that I'm off to a good start (a little late in addressing this…:P) and to those that favorite and follow this piece. It's nice to know that there are even three people who are interested enough of the product of my strange little head…**

**So, I hope you guys enjoyed. I would seriously appreciate another review, though…don't hold back! I accept constructive critism eagerly.**

**Fun Fact: 'Amna' is an Arabic name meaning 'safe'. This is ironic, as this story's camio'd Amna is kind of dead. The irony WAS intended.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_My work lies before me. Five guards after my life. _

_Each man seems incompetent compared to my training, each testing me, seeing who will make the first move._

_My blade is thirsty for blood today._

…

Altair kicked his horse into motion, leaving behind the carnage he wrought on those foolish enough to fight him. Now, it was hard to tell the difference between the red cross sewed on their uniform and bloodstains.

The assassin absolutely hated the south. It always smelled of shit and salt, and the humidity cause by the nearby ports made the usual dry heat become oppressive. The people in Acre were more annoying than in the rest of the Kingdom combined. Now he had a target there.

Altair silently fumed as her led his ebony steed forward. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, and the assassin would need to stop soon. Those fools held him up for far longer than he thought.

As he continued down the road, he could faintly smell cooking meat. The sight of smoke nearby confirmed it as a campfire.

Altair went to investigate further. Who else would be out here willing to make a fire?

He was less than pleased with the answer that came to him as he approached the campsite. In front of a hearty fire sat that vigilante woman. Was she following him?

She looked up to him and smiled, hood falling back slightly to reveal a pair of brilliantly colored emerald eyes, though they had an underscore of darkness to them despite her expression.

"You know, I'm beginning to think that you like me more than I thought you did," she teased.

"This was entirely on accident. Are you following me?" he asked.

"Nope. This meeting is purely chance, I assure you," Raven stated, "Though, if we're going the same way…"

"No. I have no interest in 'traveling together'. I am going to Acre to kill a man, you are going…somewhere. Perhaps back to Damascus," he cut her off hastily. _Though I am not sure why you left in the first place_, he pondered.

"Huh, lucky break! I'm going to Acre, too! You know, I still am indebted to you. That was part of the deal, right?" she asked.

If there was a god above, it hated Altair. Why did she have to be headed to Acre, as well? He had hoped that their one instance of working together would be the only time he would see her.

"You seem confused. I already kinda told you that I operate all around the Kingdom. Right now, I need to check on my people in Acre," she explained.

If she operated all around the Kingdom, then that meant…

Altair hopped back on his horse and started walking it away. To his dismay, Raven hopped up and started following.

"Hey, wait up! I _do _still owe you, so if you tell me who your target is, maybe I could tell you a little bit about them?" she called.

Altair stopped his horse. He had not considered using her for information. She walked the streets across the Kingdom every day. It is possible she has heard something. Still, he did not like the idea of relying on a woman for information.

"Garnier," he muttered, "Garnier de LaPlouse."

Her breath caught. "Lucky bastard. I've been hunting the doctor for months, and suddenly, you get a contract to kill him?" she demanded. The put out expression on her face almost made him want to laugh; it was ridiculous. But the assassin had a job to do. He could laugh on his own time.

He slipped off of his horse again. "Then you know of whom I speak," he pressed.

"Yeah, I know about your target. The good doctor runs a clinic at the Knights Hospitalier. He's crazy," she added, "If I were you, I'd start looking there."

"That is all you know?" Altair demanded.

"I know more," Raven drawled, "but we can't have the bureau leaders getting suspicious. You're technically supposed to be doing this on your own, right?"

"Then why offer to give information if you withhold more from me?" he demanded.

"Oh, don't be an ass, Altair. Unless you already knew most of the information about your target _before _coming to investigate and track? The way I look at it, I can get you started. And if you need a way in or out, my people and I can take care of it. I already gave you more information than you knew before," she pointed out.

It was true. He did not know that his target was a doctor before. He did not know where to begin his search before. He did something he thought he would never have to do before, and swallowed his pride. Sadly, he may not receive her help again, otherwise.

"You are…correct. I did not know any of that before. You have saved me time," he said monotonously.

Why did he feel the need to placate the woman? What made her so special?

From now on, he would not let her win. Her smirk of triumph was difficult for his pride to bear.

"Good man," she said, raising her hand. Reflexively, he caught it, attempting to wrench it behind her back. However, she easily slipped out of his grasp. Her eyes were shadowed by her hood again, but from what of her face he could still see, she was less than pleased.

She started speaking in another language, one that he rarely heard, in a dialect that he has had no previous encounter with. He did not know this tongue, but the words were slow, and she started talking a lot with her hands. From her stance, he could tell that she was less than pleased.

Finally, it was getting on his nerves that he could not understand her. "Speak sense, woman, or do not speak at all!" he growled. His talking shut her up, and she clasped her hands to her mouth. He was sure that if he could see her eyes right now, they would be filled with shock.

"Wow…that just slipped out. Huh, sorry," she said sheepishly, "I guess your reaction was a reflex…or a cultural thing…or something. Goddammit."

"Just how long have you lived in the Holy Lands?" he asked, curious.

"Look, that's a long story, and I'm sure that you want to set up camp, though you're welcome to share mine," the vigilante dodged.

It was yet another question that she would not answer. Perhaps he should have expected that.

He supposed that sharing camp with her would not be the end of the world, as long as she kept to herself.

He would simply set out first thing in the morning.

…

_The slap resounded around the room, and the room grew quiet._

_Suddenly, she screamed. "I hate you! I wish you had just left me with Aunt Rose!" Tears were streaming down her face, tears of shock and anger._

"_Raven!"_

_She ran out the front door, slamming it behind her so hard that it was a wonder it didn't splinter into tiny pieces._

_She just ran in the darkening evening. She didn't know where she was going or why. She just had to get away, and fast._

_Rain broke out, the drops of water cooling down her heated skin. Suddenly, she heard the sound of squealing tires to her right. She looked down and realized that she was in the middle of the Boston road, and when she looked up, she was blinded by headlights. _

_She tried to run to the safety of the sidewalk, but she was no match for a speeding car out of control._

_Suddenly, everything went black, though nothing hurt._

_Was she dead?_

…

Raven woke with a start. She expected to hear the whirring and beeping of machines. When she felt the hot sun, she realized that it was just a dream…or a nightmare.

She scanned for any sign of Altair. When she found none, she could only assume that he woke up early and left soon after. Not that she blamed him…though she had thought that they were going to be traveling together. Oh, well.

"See you soon, Assassin," she muttered, "See you soon…"

…

**A/n: And Chapter Four is done! Ideas are rolling again! **

**So…yes…they will probably meet during virtually every assassination, meaning that this story will probably around twenty or thirty chapters when I'm done with it. So saddle up and grab a snack, because this'll take a while.**

**Another review! So far, what feedback I've received is good, making me want to continue this even more! I might even write another chapter today!**

**Chances are that these next few chapters won't be checked by Witty, sadly…I still haven't been able to get in contact with her…so…just so you know.**

**So, thanks for reading, big thanks to those who follow, and, hey, dropping a review won't be the end of the world. I don't care how nasty or how nice; as a writer, I simply seek to improve.**

**Fun Fact: Altair can't speak English. He **_**did **_**spend all or most of his life in Syria, after all.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

_My work lies before me. Six knights, one civilian, everybody else pretending that they see nothing._

_One knife finds a new sheath; one knight gains a broken neck. _

_Two down, four to go. Keep the civilian alive._

…

Altair entered the occupied city over the guards' heads. Checkpoints were useless when there was a way to go around.

He had waken up first thing in the morning, hoping to leave the camp and arrive at Acre before Raven even realized that he was gone. He most certainly was _not _dealing with her annoying comments the rest of the way there. To his pleasure, she seemed to be a surprisingly heavy sleeper, if a little restless. Altair was able to pack up and leave without her noticing.

As he walked through the streets, Altair was vaguely reminded of two weeks ago, when he met the annoying and enigmatic vigilante. A part of him almost expected to run into another fight between her and the guards, but the rest of him knew that that was impossible at the moment.

He _did _have a head start over her, after all. She may even still be asleep.

It made it all the more shocking when he ran across a hooded figure fighting the guards. Upon closer inspection, it was obvious that this was a different person; the cloak was less concealing of the warrior's womanhood, and her fighting style was jerkier, less graceful; the work of one less experienced. It was obvious that this woman could not handle the number of knights, as she was quickly becoming overwhelmed. The assassin sighed. Once again, he would have to play hero to these people.

Altair dived on one of the guards, piercing their throat as he did so. Using his momentum, he drew his sword and impaled another. On and on it went until they were all dead.

Altair sheathed his sword, looking at the blood-spattered woman.

"If you cannot hold off four attackers at once," he said, "then perhaps you should find another pass-time." He threw her a simple sword lying on the ground, assuming it was hers. She barely caught it, too awed to speak. Altair began to walk away.

"Wait!" she cried.

"What is it?" he demanded, turning around to face the girl once again.

"You are not going to ask about why a woman is fighting in the first place, or…who I am?" she asked.

"I know of your organization. This is not the first time I have helped one of your kind," the assassin pointed out. It had to be one of _her _people; women are not allowed to fight anywhere else.

Altair began walking again. This time, the nameless woman did not stop him. Her presence perplexed him, though; in the Brotherhood, one was not allowed to so much as leave Masyaf until they proved themselves competent. This girl obviously still had much to learn…so what was she doing on the streets?

As he climbed up to the rooftops, he was greeted by the woman who could answer his question. _Not that she would,_ Altair noted silently.

"I swear that you're going out of your way to find my people. I thought you had your own mission?" she pointed out with a wry smile.

"Do you send all of your people out so incompetent?" Altair asked.

The vigilante's face became serious. "No," Raven said, "the newer members, especially if they're younger, feel like they have to…prove themselves to me. Sometimes, they sneak out when everyone's back is turned. What they don't understand is that randomly picking fights with the guards won't do anything for them except set them on a suicide mission. We've lost several that way."

"Then perhaps you should guard your exits better," the assassin replied.

"Ha ha, aren't you cute? We're all human, and sometimes, my people miss something. It doesn't matter how well-guarded my exits seem," she remarked bitterly.

Altair could tell that his words had hit a nerve. It was about time that he caught her off-guard for a change.

"Surely you have some in your order who look for acceptance in similar ways?" she continued absent-mindedly.

"No. One of the first lessons we are taught as Assassins in discipline. Every novice knows that showing off in such a way will lead to punishment," Altair replied simply.

"If he needs violence to keep your people in line, then maybe your master is doing something wrong," she pointed out.

"It is obvious that compassion does not work by simply looking at your own people. If you lose people like this regularly, then perhaps you are being too easy on them," Altair countered, ire in his voice. What right did she have?

She gave him a sad smile. "If only the world was that black and white, Altair. I admit that sometimes…violence is necessary, but those that I use it on just break the same rules again. They start resenting me…and I'm forced to kill them so that they don't betray us."

He was taken aback by her sudden sorrow. The only emotions he had ever truly seen from her were sarcasm and anger. It would seem that she hid even more from him than he initially thought.

As soon as it came, though, it was gone, replaced by her usual demeanor.

"Well, I've got stuff I need to look into. Why don't we continue this later?" she asked.

"Do not count on it," Altair replied, though a part of him knew that they would again regardless of what he wanted.

…

"…realize that Raven will kill you when she arrives," berated Zane, Raven's second-in-command for Acre.

"As if I don't already know," Raven smirked, walking into the room.

The girl, Marianna, was looking down at her feet, hood down, though her hair covered her face with the same affect.

"You're lucky to be alive, you know that?" Raven asked her. Marianna nodded weakly, still avoiding Raven's eyes.

"You saw everything, then?" she asked meekly.

"Yes. The assassin had a good point, too; if four guards overwhelm you, then you need more training. There's a reason why I don't send any of you on missions until I know that you can handle it. This isn't a game, and if Altair didn't intervene when he did, you'd be dead."

"I know, Raven…" Marianna trailed, voice cracking.

"Then I hope you learned your lesson. Now, get to your bunk and rest; training doesn't stop just because you were stupid enough to not heed my warnings," Raven said gently.

The girl looked at her mentor, wide-eyed, before running off.

Once she was out of earshot, Zane spoke.

"I'm surprised you let her off that easily. You always said that if anyone pulled a stunt like that, there would be hell to pay," he pointed out.

"Well, she's the only one to try it and live. Sometimes…well, sometimes, not everything is as black-and-white as it seems. The world has a lot grey in it. It's what makes it great…and terrible," she explained.

Now if she could just show that to a certain white-clad figure…

…

**A/n: And fifth chapter, done! I'm sure you guys want more action than that, but talking is important, too! I was originally going to write it as Altair meeting Raven in Acre the same way he did in Damascus, but I decided against that because she would have had to get in the city before him for that to work, and it seemed like using virtually identical scenes was a bad idea, anyways. Besides, Altair threatened to kill me in my sleep if I took that route :P (for obvious reasons.) Of course, Raven would've handled that situation much better than the Marianna girl.**

**It seems like my OC is rather popular, for her wit in particular. I'm glad that everybody loves her so much!**

**So, I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it (which is to say that I'm having a blast!), and if you have anything to say, don't hesitate to say it! Your feedback is appreciated! **

**Until next time, readers!**

**Fun Fact: The scene at the very beginning of this chapter is simply Raven saving a civilian outside of Acre. It didn't seem too important to add a scene for that.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

_My work lies before me. Two guards, several archers. All standing between me and my target._

_My blade is thirsty for—_what…?

…

Altair almost fell off his perch as he watched the scene before him unfold. Raven, her cloak billowing around her spectrally in the sea breeze, simply walked up to the guard checkpoint and started hurling insults at them. _What was she doing? Was she mad?_

Finally, the guards had heard enough, and they drew their swords, aiming to kill the annoying woman before them. She started running, insisting that there was no way in any hell that they could catch her. They soon chased after her.

It all happened so fast, the assassin had a hard time figuring out what had just occurred. Finally, he realized that she was distracting the guards for him. But why?

_She _did _say that she would offer assistance…not that I needed it here_, the former Master Assassin remembered, _Still, if that is her idea of a distraction, then this woman must be more damaged then I originally thought._

He decided to think on it later, and dropped into the nearest hay stack. When he was sure that nobody would see him, he pushed himself out of the cart, shaking hay out of his robes as he walked through the now open entrance to the barracks of the Knights Hospitalier.

There were various knights and patients milling around the courtyard. It would be a simple matter to slip into the crowd and kill the doctor.

Until one of the patients ran out, screaming.

…

Raven tugged her sword out of the dead knight's body, wiping the blood off on his tunic when it finally came free.

"And that," Raven stated, "is why you don't give into taunts. Now you're dead." The young vigilante smirked beneath her hood. That was almost too easy. The first was down in under five seconds, and then the second one tried to run. However, as was apparent by the two dead bodies, he wasn't fast enough.

Raven pulled herself onto a nearby building, hoping to leave before anyone found the bodies.

Besides, it wouldn't do if she missed her chance.

…

Altair watched with an unreadable expression on his face. What had happened? And why the harsh treatment? He was no fool, but…was it not the job of a doctor to heal his patients? _This is why Raven is so hell-bent on killing the man, I see._

As the group dispersed, Altair slipped into the middle of a group of scholars, effectively gaining entry.

Inside, many of the patients simply wandered around as if in a daze. There were very few people here that seemed to be in their right mind. The assassin let the colors of the world fall away as he searched among the crowd for his target. Finally, a blaze of gold stood out among all of the grey and red.

The doctor did not even have a chance to turn around before Altair plunged his hidden blade deep into the man's neck.

…

The sound of screaming (beyond the usual cries of agony that can always be heard from this place) was Raven's cue. She gave the signal, what sounded like a bird whistle, and then proceeded to enter the compound. Her men swarmed the barracks, guiding the doctor's 'patients' out to safety. Meanwhile, she searched the crowd for Altair.

It didn't take long for him to emerge from the panicking mob, running before anyone could see what he'd done. She had to work to catch up to him.

When she knew he could hear her, she called his name.

"Follow me!" she called over the din of panic.

"Why? Where do you plan to take me?" he responded, keeping up his pace easily.

"Somewhere that the guards can't follow."

At first it seemed like he would ignore her and go his own way, before finally relenting.

She took a left, then a right, then another left, staying straight for a few blocks before she made another left turn. She knew that the assassin was still behind. Besides, if he could keep up with her during their little Damascus chase, there was no way he'd lose her here.

Finally, she found what she was looking for; an entrance to the sewers, just big enough for them to slip through one at a time.

He seemed to notice, and slid in without hesitation, though the vigilante could have sworn that he was grimacing.

Of course, the man never smiled. That was just his default expression.

As soon as he was through, she followed suit, landing on her feet.

"It's only a little longer," she informed. The assassin simply nodded, gesturing for her lead on.

…

Altair looked around the sewers, expecting to be ambushed at any moment. However, his sight colored his companion in an unwavering blue. That did not mean that he trusted her, no matter what she said.

"I don't suppose you will tell me where we are going now, will you?" he asked.

"My base in Acre. We can cut through the sewers to get there. The knights' armor is too bulky to allow them to follow. And if any hostile approaches the base without armor, well, then he's either extremely brave, or extremely stupid," she explained, chuckling slightly.

"And what is to stop me from betraying the location of this place?" he pointed out.

"Well, for one, I'm pretty sure we've got a common enemy in the city's guards. For another, I give damn good information, and betraying my people means that you'll have a much harder time completing your goals."

He would not admit her point. It was not like he intended to betray her, but it caught him off-guard that she would trust him so easily. She may be annoying, but she was hardly a fool.

"It seems like you trust me too easily. We barely met a week ago," he pointed out.

"Oh, believe me; I don't trust you. This place isn't exactly a well-kept secret; it's simply obscure. We can always move on to another base. And if I trusted you, you'd know a lot more about then you do," she pointed out.

Apparently, their idea of what to reveal in trust and distrust were very different. His mind went back to the other night, when she allowed him to sleep in her camp.

And she had a point; what did he truly know about this woman beyond a name? How did he know that that was not a fake as well?

Finally, she stopped and opened a door.

After she was done, she turned around. "Feel free to come here whenever you wish. Our door is always open for civilians and Assassins, so my people shouldn't give you much trouble. Stay until you're ready to leave; I've got to go check on my people up top."

Without another word, she walked past him, going back the way they had come.

He entered the compound, all the while trying to untie the various knots that had appeared in his mind recently.

…

**A/n: Finally, done! I'm so sorry it took so long! Writer's Block is the bane of my existence, after all. Apparently, I simply needed to take a break from Assassin's Creed altogether and go focus on something else for a while. But, hopefully, I'll be able to update semi-regularly again, now that I'm past The Second Wall.**

**I don't think that this chapter is quite up to snuff with the others. I think it's pretty obvious that I was rushing a little, so excuse me for that. But, things will get more interesting in the next chapter, I promise.**

**So, I hope you guys enjoyed, and reviews are appreciated. If you find even one thing wrong with this story, tell me so that I can fix it!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Altair approached the Jerusalem Bureau with disdain and…trepidation? He would never admit it, of course, but a part of him, if only a very small part, felt responsible for what happened in Solomon's Temple. Now, he had to face the man that had lost the most from the ordeal.

Within, he could hear voices, which was odd. The assassin strained to hear the words from within.

"—new Rafiq, otherwise, I'd have come and introduced myself three weeks ago."

"Then why now?"

"Weren't you listening? I give information to various Assassin outposts across the Kingdom. I was just making my rounds and expected to see the old one here, not a cripple."

"Comments like that do not make a good case for you."

"If you don't believe me, ask the others, they'll tell you that I give damn good information. And no, I'm not playing angles, before you ask."

"You are not…what?"

"Never mind."

"You know what? Fine. I will give you one chance, but if I suspect that anything is amiss, I will send my men after you."

"Duly noted. Now, if you don't mind, I have to get back to work."

A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he listened to the two. One was obviously Raven, and it had sounded like she met a new match in wits. Perhaps she would leave him alone in favor of Jerusalem's new Rafiq.

It was too good to be true, though, as she lightly landed besides him.

"Enjoy the show?" she asked innocently.

"You knew I listening." It was not a question, but a statement. Her keen senses were almost as good as those of any Assassin.

"Well, duh. You could've come in and vouch for me, you know," the vigilante pouted. However, he was sure that if he could see her eyes, they would betray her amusement.

He almost laughed at the irony if it were not so bitter. "My word would not do you much good," he stated, "In fact, I would have been detrimental to your cause."

She mock-gasped, and the sound grated on his nerves. "Humility from the great Altair? I thought I'd never see the day!" she teased.

"I will push you back down into the Bureau if you do not stop," he warned.

"Fine, fine. Kill my fun as you always do," she stated, her hands up in a defeated gesture. She suddenly seemed to grow serious. Altair knew that a question had formed in her mind, and dreaded what it would be.

"In all seriousness, though; why wouldn't your word hold much weight? Your robes identify you as someone in high standing amongst your brothers, and some people even seem to respect you."

He paused, briefly. Then, anger flashed through him. "Why should I explain anything to you if you simply dance around almost every question I have ever asked you?" he pointed out, seething.

That seemed to catch her off-guard for a change, but she quickly regained her cool, sardonic composure. Her voice showed no hint of her emotions as she spoke. "You may have a point. Very well, ask me a question if you want, but I can't guarantee an answer," she promised elusively.

There was a catch here. She would not try to explain it all away, as most would? The offer threw him off-guard, but he knew that he could use this situation to prove his point.

"Then who are you, really? And why help me? It is obvious that you do not trust me," he attempted, though his instinct told him that he would not receive the answer he was looking for. Her sudden irritation confirmed as much.

"First off, that's two questions," she pointed out defensively, "and second, I've already answered both of those."

His sight outlined her usually blue aura in a small ring of red. She was hiding something from him, and would not share it with him no matter how hard he pressed. Still, he continued on, hoping to outsmart her. After all, it seemed as though she wanted an answer as much as he did.

"That is what I mean; I ask you a simple question, and more often than not, you evade me. If you want an answer to your question, then you will answer mine," he declared.

He was sure that if he could see her unfathomably green eyes at the moment, she would be glaring daggers at him. However, he could care less.

Her response surprised him. "Fine," she said, "then forget I asked."

He had thought that her curiosity was great enough that she would divulge something to him, even if it was only in a small amount. However, the Eagle had made one mistake; he had wounded her pride, and she was too stubborn to accept that.

Without another word, she started sprinting across the rooftops of the city. He did not follow; he had no reason to. He could use it to stall his dread for a time, but the vigilante would only allow him to chase for a short time.

Sighing, Altair turned and faced the encounter that he had been looking forward to the least.

…

Raven finally stopped when she reached Jerusalem's Middle District, and only then because her vast stamina started to run low. The sun was finally giving up its murderous dominion in the sky and handing it over to the gentler Arabic moon for the night. She chose a tall point in the city and started lounging there, absently tossing her dagger up in the air and catching it on the point, repeating the action as she thought.

It seemed as though the vigilante had hit a nerve within her personal mystery, and he had been eager to return the favor. They were both too proud to relent to the other one, and trust would come easily to neither of them.

It was going to be a long week.

…

**A/n: I saw a ton of e-mails pertaining to this story in my inbox, and it was nothing bad! You guys are awesome! ^.^**

**Anyways, so this one is a bit shorter than the others, but to make it longer would have it leak to the length of two chapters, so I stopped it there. As usual, Altair is the attention whore. Again. (Not that I don't love you, Alty! 3) Ah, well. After Ezio got TWO FREAKING GAMES all to himself, and one that was 'shared' with Altair, he deserves to be a little hoggy with attention…now if he could give some to Raven, as well, everything would be peachy. Of course, the next story will have RAVEN as the attention whore, with Altair barely getting the long monologue time he has here. I don't think you guys will mind too much, though; Raven seems to have love among my tiny fanbase .**

**And I'm glad that out of all of the 'WTF I'm in Assassin's Creed' stories, this is considered to be good! Not that that takes much…l.o**

**So, on that awkward note (and my computer's dying), I'll say thanks for reading! Just having a high view count stimulates me somewhat! (though not as much as, say, a high review count), so thanks!**

**Byes!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

_My work lies before me. Ten thugs, one traitor, one civilian. All cornered in a back alley and snarling like mad dogs._

_One thug finds a new hole to breathe through; another is impaled on my blade._

_Two down, nine to go. Keep the civilian alive._

…

Altair leapt gracefully off of his perch, diving headfirst into the city below. Air whistled in his ears, the sheer speed of his fall threatening to tear off his hood and expose him to the world. Adrenaline ran through his veins as people, merchant stalls, and other details became more than specs on the ground. Pure, golden euphoria colored his world as he angled his body to land back-first in the waiting haystack below.

In an instant, it was over.

Jumps such as those were one of the few pleasures the assassin could enjoy. He would never admit it, but in those few precious moments, he felt truly alive.

He felt free.

But such feelings were never meant to last, and as the last of the lingering adrenaline drained from him, Altair was brought back to reality. To disgrace and puzzlement and simmering loathing. Sighing, Altair pushed himself out of the cart, shaking hay out of the folds of his robes as he walked.

He had spotted a promising lead from his vista, not too far away from where he was now. A part of him wished that Raven could have stayed long enough to narrow his search down beyond a district, which was all that Malik would give him to begin.

As Altair made his way to his destination, he replayed his conversation with the vigilante in his head. The woman was too stubborn for her own good. Why was she so determined on keeping herself swathed in shadows, even if it was at the cost of her own curiosity? He understood a lack of trust clearly; the only thing that stopped him from quelling her life was her strong, deep blue aura. However, Altair had been certain that laying out such bait would pressure her to reveal…anything of herself.

She was unpredictable, and that made her dangerous.

He arrived at one of the various squares in which people came to listen to speeches…only to find that his current interest was nowhere in sight. The assassin cursed himself silently.

Refusing to give up, Altair climbed the nearest building, letting Jerusalem's colorful city-scape fade away, replacing it with a grey-scale version as he utilized his sixth sense. This lead would not escape him. He sprinted across various rooftops, looking for a blaze of gold in and amongst the dreary grey.

When he found it, not terribly far away from the square, Altair uttered another curse as he noticed a blue corona twirling around the grey figures blocking the gold.

Sighing, he dived into action, landing on his hands and feet before drawing his sword, plunging it into the nearest thug. Before he knew, he was back to back with Raven as more came to join the fray.

"Pray tell," Altair growled, "why you are always heavily outnumbered whenever I find you."

"It wasn't my fault! There were only ten when I started out! I didn't know more would come!" she hissed in response.

"That was a foolish presumption," he remarked.

"Oh, you're one to talk! Now, we can argue all you want…as soon as there aren't a million brutes hungering for our heads!" she pointed out.

_I believe they are looking to claim _your _head, actually, and I am almost inclined to let them_, Altair thought to himself.

They both leapt into action, aiming to kill. Their movements were in perfect harmony, bobbing and weaving, slashing and impaling, killing and wounding. This dance was one they both danced often, and knew the steps to, for this was a dance of death.

Thus, it came as a shock when Altair heard Raven's yelp of pain. He realized that he had come almost to a complete halt at the sound a second before a blade attempted to take off his head. However, the wielder was too slow, and Altair used the thug's opening to end him.

He bore a side glance at Raven, who was still on action, but moving more slowly. He could not see the damage over her billowing cloak, but could tell that it was a bit more than a flesh would.

At last, there was only one figure, cowering in a corner. Altair readied his hidden blade.

…

Raven hissed in pain as she eased herself to the ground, moving her cloak out of the way in order to view the full extent of the damage. Below her was a deep cut on her upper thigh. It didn't seem like the blade had hit an artery, but it was still bleeding heavily. She inwardly cursed herself for not paying attention. What would she tell the others when she got back to her hideout? She definitely couldn't say that one of the common riff-raff had caused the wound, or else she'd lose her credibility as a bad-ass.

_Oh, well,_ she mused, _better discredited than dead, I suppose. _

She searched her small pack for a rag she could use to create a make-shift tourniquet, but couldn't find anything. She was right about to rip off a strip from her cloak when a large shadow loomed over her.

For what seemed like forever, but what couldn't have been more than a moment, silence stretched between them. Finally, Altair crouched down, appearing as though he were inspecting the wound.

"How bad is it?" he asked.

"It's no big deal, really. I mean, I've had _way _worse than this, trust me," she responded, a little too quickly.

She could feel his skepticism rolling off in waves. "If that is the case," he replied, "then get up and begin walking."

_Well, damn…I can't do anything without proving his point in this case._

Wincing, she attempted to push herself off of the ground, but as soon as she put some weight on her injured leg, more blood gushed out, and it sent fire searing through her nervous system. Defeated, she fell back on the ground, glaring at Altair's victorious smirk.

"Now that we have established that you are not alright, allow me to bind it," the assassin offered.

"Get off your damn high horse. You'd do the exact same thing in my position," she grumbled, crossing her arms and looking away in a childish gesture of pouting.

His only response was a slight _hmph_, and then he began spreading something on the gash. At first it felt as though he was setting the area on fire, but then, some of the pain went away, eliciting a small sigh of relief from the vigilante. She could feel the warmth of his hands through her ripped pants, and it would have been comforting were it not for the fact that she knew who it was behind the gentleness.

_On that note…I didn't even know Altair knew the meaning of gentle_, she joked weakly to herself.

Suddenly, he began wrapping the wound, though from where he got the materials to do such a thing, she wouldn't ask.

He pushed himself up, and it looked like he was preparing to leave, when Raven called out, "Wait!"

Altair tensed, but did not turn to face her. Still, she knew that he was listening.

"Why help me? I mean, I know you kind of hate me, and you don't owe me anything. It seems like you could've just gotten out of your hair really quickly by just leaving me here," she pointed out.

This time, the assassin _did _whirl around to face her, as if she had just suggested something offensive.

"Do you honestly believe that I would simply leave you here to bleed to death, simply because I, as you put it, 'kind of hate you'?" he demanded, deathly calm.

_Just like the eerie silence just before a storm_.

She didn't say anything. There wasn't anything _to _say. Was he the kind to just leave those he hated in an alleyway to bleed out? At the end of the day, there was no telling. Some days, he was almost pleasant to be around, and others, he was the most infuriating person she had ever met. It wasn't even for some noble 'you got hurt fighting my fight' kind of reason—she had started this one.

Eventually, he backed off, turning around once again. Before he was completely out of earshot, though, he stopped.

He turned his head over his shoulder as if to look at her; however, with his hood obscuring most of his face, it was hard to be sure.

"I do not hate you. It would do you well to not presume what people are thinking or feeling if you do not truly know," he stated, before setting off again.

She just stared at his retreating form, mouth agape. What the hell just happened?

…

Altair continued through the city, puzzled by what had just happened.

She had a point in that he really did not have a clear motive for helping her once again. He hardly liked the woman at all; she was stubborn, sarcastic, and knew just what to say to hit his nerves.

But hate her? No, that was not it at all. She had done nothing to deserve full-on hate (at least, not yet) and he was puzzled as to why she would think such a thing.

_Why do I truly care _what _her opinion of me is? She is a resource to aid me in my assassinations, nothing more. _Altair felt almost as if he was trying to convince himself of that rather than simply reminding himself of the truth.

At the end of the day, what _was _this woman to him?

He was almost certain that he did not have the answer himself.

…

**A/n: I'm SOOOOOOOOOOO sorry about the long wait, guys! School started last month, and I've been swimming in homework almost every night (I didn't even know that Sophomores GOT that much homework…a big shock from easy-going freshman year for sure -.-). Beyond that, I got distracted by other things…and forgot! (And a little bit of Writer's Block, because that's almost a chronic disease for me) But, hopefully I can get back into a semi-regular posting schedule again (but what'll probably happen is that now that I said that, it won't be 'till 2014 that I post again. Good god…)**

**ANYWAYS…so…Altair might have seemed a little OOC at the beginning of this chapter, and if so, I apologize. I just REALLY wanted to write a scene depicting how I interpreted the Leap of Faith (because, you know, one of my favorite pastimes in the first game is to jump off the Grand Cathedral thing in Acre :P) Beyond that, Altair HAS to have some sort of reprieve from his daily routine, I dunno…**

**So…slight fluff in this one…hope I'm not going too fast in that department…eeto…**

**Now, someone brought up a point in the comments that I feel I should address. I purposely did not explain how Raven got to the Holy Lands; that will gleaned upon much later in this story, and the main focus of the sequel (whenever I get around to finishing this one…which is a long way off…) So…if anyone was curious…**

**And on the note of Raven, I'm so glad that everyone seems to like her! If she seems too Mary-Sue, predictable, boring, or just flat-out stereotypical, tell me in a review and I will try my hardest to fix that…**

**And for all of you that review, follow and favorite this story (I think that when you add it all up, the total is well beyond twenty *sqee!*), you guys are awesome, and are part of my inspiration for this story! So, let me make you my solemn promise that this story WILL be completed!...one day. I'm not ging up one this for the world, even if…uhm…past history would say that this story should have probably been scrapped already. BUT! Not the point!**

**So thanks for reading, and I hope to see you guys soon (eh…figuratively speaking…)**

**(As a side note, I'm pretty that this is currently the longest chapter, even without the author's note, so…cool)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

_My work lies before me. Five slavers, many prisoners, any passersby pretending that nothing is amiss at all._

_One slaver is quickly impaled through the heart, another is coughing blood._

_Two down, three to go._

_My blade is thirsty for blood._

…

Raven huffed in annoyance as she was forcefully thrown into a cage, trying not to gasp in pain as her injured thigh connected with the floor. Around her, she could hear the moans of the tortured and hopeless souls that were just as trapped as she was.

"Well," she muttered to herself, finding it in herself to shed light on the sick humor of her situation, "what do you know? The badass was captured by the very people she was going after. My reputation has been ruined."

_Of course, I never really cared about my reputation until three years ago, anyways_, she added in her mind.

She cursed the stupid fool that forgot to block. _Oh, wait…that's _me, _isn't it? _She asked herself rhetorically.

The vigilante was very tempted to blame all of this on Altair, because he could have obviously blocked the hit for her, and other childish thoughts. Of course, falsely accusing her sort-of partner of such things, even jokingly, was probably a bad idea.

So now, she had absolutely nothing to do except go bat-shit insane on any slavers that came around. Of course, it was rather hard to see in the dim room. _What, they couldn't light a candle or something?_

"At least I have time to think…I guess. I wonder who they traffic all of their slaves to. Acre, maybe? Sent to the port city, then shipped to western Europe for rich assholes with too much money and not enough work ethic."

A part of her felt like she should know the answer, like there was just one missing piece to this puzzle.

Another part of her was convinced it was linked to Altair somehow, because, for some reason, _everything _came back to the assassin. In fact, while she was at it, certain clues led her to believe that the man in charge of it all was his next target.

_I'm saved_, she thought sardonically. Why the hell did she have to become a damsel, anyways?

_Well, that's simple, dumbass. You didn't learn lock picking, _she chided herself.

Those pieces made her form a plan. If Altair came sometime soon, she'd wait patiently and quietly. However, if the opportunity presented itself, the next asshole to try and take her out of this cage would serve as her escape route. Either way, she was waiting. And she hated waiting. _You better hurry up, you son of a bitch_, she cried in her head.

Once again, he crept into her thoughts for no particular reason other than to annoy her. Perhaps she was a hypocrite, but she was really starting to get tired of it. _And if _this _is how I feel about it, maybe I should stop giving him a hard time. Actually…nah. Call it recompense._

Her thoughts turned serious, though, as she thought about what pretty much put her _in _this situation. The scene in the alleyway kept replaying in her mind. Why _had _he helped her, anyways? It wasn't an invalid question. Any information she could give him he could find himself, and he was competent enough in battle that he didn't need her for that. The honest truth was that if anyone was using anyone in this relationship, it she that was using him, not the other way around. It couldn't even be for warm, mushy feelings, because everyone knew that _he wasn't capable of such things_. At least, not from what she had seen. But what did she know, anyways? He had at least as many secrets as she did. And then, what he said…

_Damn, _she thought,_ I'll be thinking about this all day if I don't get out of here._

…

Altair walked the streets with purpose, looking straight ahead. Any of yesterday's worries and troubles were gone, replaced by an indomitable focus and determination to complete the task given to him. He would soon be one man closer to his true target, and that much closer to restoring his rank and honor. Nothing else mattered at the moment.

Soon, he stood in front of his destination, ready to end things.

He quietly slipped through an unguarded entryway. As soon as he stepped through the threshold, the stench of death and desperation made the assassin want to gag. However, he remained composed, and thanked whatever god that was watching for the darkness.

As soon as he made a move to step forwards, however, a voice penetrated the gloom of this place. A voice that he was swiftly getting tired of hearing.

"Hey, you! Yeah, I'm talking to you! Release us all now, or the next time you try to touch me, I'll beat your ass to the point that you even be recognizable as a human being anymore! If that bothers you, then hit me! I dare you, unless you don't have the balls to do it, you bloody coward!"

On and on she ranted, and he was once again tempted to chuckle. However, he swallowed his strange mirth and followed the sound of her voice. He did not even need his sixth sense to find her, fuming like a child throwing a tantrum, and as soon as he was close enough to see her unaided, she ceased, as if she realized that she was not directing her sneers and taunts at a guard.

"Oh, Altair. It took you long enough to get here. Do you know how boring it is here? Hell, I've been here for maybe a couple of hours, and I'm already tired of it," she chided.

That was strange; he did not remember telling her of his next target. "How did you—"

"Know?" she cut off, "Simple logic, really. A black-market arms dealer, a demented doctor…master douchebag—err—slaver is the next logical step." Then what he could see of her face became thoughtful. "You know, that sounds like the start of really bad bar joke. An arms dealer, doctor and slaver all walk into a bar together…"

Her words were like a bucket of cold water. The past few weeks—had it really only been that?—suddenly made much more sense. "Garnier…Tilal supplies him, Tamir armed him. These are not random despots I am sent to kill," he muttered to himself.

"Uh…you realize that I was joking, right? Now, if you don't mind…?" she stated, gesturing to the lock that kept her in her prison. Altair snapped out of his musings and quickly worked to pick the lock. It was not a particularly complex lock, and he was surprised that she had not picked it already. Of course, he was still unsure as to why she was locked up here in the first place.

As soon as the door swung open, she pushed herself out, tensing as she put pressure on her injured leg. She seemed to stumble a little, and then regain her balance. _Perhaps that is why she got captured, _he noted.

"Alright," Raven said, head held high with a forced smile, "Tilal is somewhere ahead…I think. Shall we?"

"You are injured, and obviously in no shape to fight," he pointed out.

"Aw, you _do _care! Seriously though, I can fight just fine. There's no way in hell you're keeping me out of this," she countered.

"Then why did you get captured? I suspect that if you were not in that cage, you would have almost beat me to Tilal," he pointed out.

She seemed at a loss for words for a second, and he left her to her stupor, advancing on to the next room, when she finally spoke.

"You realize that they'll attempt to overwhelm you, right? Even _you _can't kill all of them by yourself," she pointed out.

"And that would simply make you a distraction. Stay here, or run back to those you shelter, I do not care. However, it is very hard for a corpse to repay debts, so one way or another, stay out of the fighting," he pointed out callously.

"You can't make me do anything I don't want to. Whether you choose to acknowledge it or not, I'm not afraid of you," she retorted.

"You are always so stubborn! Can you not simply listen when a person offers you common sense? I could kill you in under five seconds, yet you make it your mission to annoy me to death, as if you are trying to poison me! Just go, and do not do anything stupid," he replied harshly.

Her demeanor was calm, though that hardly meant anything. She was silent again for a while, as if looking for the right words to voice her thoughts.

"You just don't get it, do you?" she finally asked, "To a lot of people, you and your brotherhood embody death. Hell, you're _assassins_, not street hawkers, so it's not a large leap of logic. The thing is that death doesn't scare me. If it does, why would I, a _woman_, take up a sword if I wasn't willing to die for what I believed? If the guards could ever catch me, I could be executed on the principle of the matter, let alone all of the hell I give them. So, if you want to try intimidation as coercion, it'll only make me fight you harder."

She was determined, Altair would give the vigilante that. Maybe it would not be terrible to have extra help and—wait, what was he thinking? This woman had a way of twisting his thoughts, and he did not understand it.

"Why not compromise? I'm a good shot with throwing knives, and I could cover you from the rafters. I wouldn't be in immediate danger, which seems to be your argument, and I'd still be fighting, which is mine," she proposed.

"I…fine. But stay at a distance," he warned, finally giving in.

…

Of course, saying to stay at a distance and actually _succeeding_ are two totally different things, as both of them realized about five minutes after Tilal sent his men against them. Raven attempted to ignore the pain in her thigh as she and Altair were back-to-back.

"What," she muttered to him, "no snide comments about staying at range?"

"I am more worried about ending Tilal and getting out alive," Altair muttered back.

If they weren't both terribly outnumbered (again), Raven just might've blushed at just how close the assassin was. It was close enough that she could feel his body heat radiating off of him, but…

_Ah, what the hell?! Are you a twenty-one year old badass or a thirteen year school girl, Anerali? _A voice in her head chided her.

She ignored her thoughts and focused on the current predicament. There were fifteen melee fighters, and at least five archers, from what the vigilante could see. She didn't know how she could last on her injured leg without having to retreat to a distance, but there were probably too many to take out before that occurred. She would have to do what she could, and look to Altair to make up the difference.

They moved into the fray as one, Altair going one way, and Raven the other. Luckily, these men hardly seemed elite, and between the two of them, the hoard was swiftly cut down to only a couple of foot soldiers. One of them was currently engaged with Altair, the other was running…with Tilal.

"Hey! Assassin!" she called out over the clashing of swords, gesturing frantically to where the cowardly slaver was fleeing.

"I am a bit busy at the moment," he called back, irritated.

_Then I guess it's up to me_, she thought, praying to whatever higher power there may be that her legs didn't give out for this inconvenient injury. Raven took a deep breath, and as she was breathing out, began sprinting, making sure that the man stayed within her sight. She would admit that he was somewhat fast…but the only problem was that she was faster, even injured. It wasn't long before he was pinned to the ground.

The vigilante made sure to break his legs, so that he couldn't get up, before moving to find Altair again. As she began moving, though, he grabbed her sleeve.

"You…are not the assassin," he declared weakly, gritting his teeth through his pain, "You are not even a man. Yet you fight, and you come after me. Why?"

It took all of her willpower not to snort. "Well that's pretty simple, actually. First, I owe 'the assassin' a debt, and I'm not one to renage. Second, your men caged me and hundreds of others like animals, as if we don't have the right to be free. Third, I'm not the kind of girl to be quiet and submissive if there are other options. Now, why don't just stay put like the nice, docile kitty you really are and start praying to your god before you die by your hunter's hand?" she suggested.

From the little bit of light pouring through the window, Tilal's face was priceless. Too bad she didn't know how to fast sketch. _Oh, well,_ she thought, _I should probably go look for Altair now._

That didn't take long, however, as Altair had been searching for Tilal.

Their exchange was quick, and the slaver's life was ended cleanly. However, Altair looked more puzzled now than ever by whatever they were talking about. She wasn't paying a lot of attention.

After a while, he finally got up, facing her directly.

"You…have helped me a great deal recently. I wanted to…thank you," he said, with no small amount of difficulty. However, she was surprised to hear the sincerity in his tone. There was no amount of flippancy or anything else present there. She wondered…

"Well…yes. That's what I'm here for, right?" she pointed out, appreciating that her hood would cover the worst of any blushing.

"Perhaps…" he trailed, before walking past her with a sort of deliberate slowness.

"Before you go…I just want to say…well, I'm sorry. For…everything," she stated, before turning on her own heel and patting down Tilal's corpse for any kind of key to free his prisoners. Out of the corner of her eye, she could have almost sworn that he tensed up…_but that was probably just my imagination_, she noted mentally.

Nevertheless, it took him a few seconds to start walking again, leaving Raven to her work…and her jumbled thoughts.

…

**A/n: WOW, it's been a LONG week, and I haven't really had time to work on this, so…sorry.**

**In other news, Altair is sharing some of the spotlight now, yay! Or, you know, Raven was just so pissed off this time around that she monopolized this chapter…oh, well. And next chapter, we'll be in the double digits for chapters! It's so exciting! **

**Anyways, for the bar joke thing…I've been wanting to crack that one for the last two chapters, at least. Too bad that **_**those two **_**naturally like to argue :(**

**Anways, seeing as how we're pretty much done with the first three assassinations or so, I'm gonna start going back and editing previous chapters and stuff…so a true update will probably be a long time coming. BUT, I will hopefully make this story better than it is, so yeah…**

**Anyways, thanks for everyone who takes the time to read my silly little fiction (and be warned that some of the funny will by subtly taken away starting next chapter), and especially to reviewers! To those who favorite and follow, but have not dropped a comment yet (which is some of you), I challenge you to tell me what you think, because all ideas and critiques and stuff are taken into consideration when writing.**

**So, I hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you next time, chiiiildreeen! (Oh, wait…this isn't Fallout 3, is it? Oh, well, I went there.)**


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